


Soft Threads

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Desire, Developing Relationship, F/F, Gifts, Internalized Misogyny, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Anne reflects on the nature of her relationship with Max.





	Soft Threads

Jack didn’t understand. That was problem number one. It wasn’t just about wanting a woman. Anne had wanted women before.  Didn’t drive her mad with desire, the way it did with men. She wasn’t ruled by her cunt, not like men and their cocks. Just looking at a women and thinking her pretty, that was nothing. Nothing to fret about. She didn’t have to say anything about it. It was enough to just look.

Problem number two was herself. Anne knew she wasn’t the sort that other women were drawn to. She wasn’t soft or sweet; she wasn’t kind or pretty or anything like that. She wasn’t drawn to dresses or jewels, baubles showcasing a woman’s assets how people liked. She was like as not always rough and half covered in grime, clothes rusty with bloodstained, long stringy hair unkempt. As long it didn’t get in her eyes in a fight, she didn’t bother with it.

The third problem was the woman.  _The_  woman in particular, for it was just one woman this time, making her feel as she did. Max was all of those things, but they didn’t demean her. They didn’t fill Anne with disgust like they did sometimes on other women. Max used her power to get what she wanted to survive, what she wanted, for pleasure.

That was something to be admired, Anne thought.

Max was meant to be admired. She deserved someone who could give her things, who could show her how much she deserved the entire world to be laid at her feet. How she should never have to move a fucking finger if she didn’t want to.

That wasn’t Anne Bonny. She was never going to be good enough, she knew that.

But she did her best.

She brought back a shawl from one of their plunders, a silly bit of bright yellow silk that made her think  _Max_  when she saw it.

She left it on the foot of Max’s bed one night when she was leaving.

“You forgot this?” Max came in from her dressing room, her robe pulled loosely around her body, barely covering it. Anne shivered slightly, knowing all the full delights that body gave her, how freely Max gave them to her, and was what struck Anne with wonder time and time again.

Max gave herself to Anne, because she wanted to.

Max held out the shawl, waiting for Anne to take it.

“Naw.” Anne ducked her head, reaching for her hat. “I didn’t forget it. It’s for you.” She paused, watching Max’s face as she looked down at the shawl, puzzled. “Thought you might like it, is all.” And she ducked out of the bedroom quickly before she could see Max’s face.

If she had lingered, she would have seen Max’s fingers trace over the soft silk, gently, as though it would vanish from her fingers if she held it too close. She would have seen Max slowly pull the shawl around her shoulders, holding it lightly to her body with her eyes closed like she was letting herself breathe for the first time in a long time.


End file.
